


It's About Him

by mongoose_bite



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Getting Together, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-09-15 21:43:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9258434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mongoose_bite/pseuds/mongoose_bite
Summary: Otabek is a straightforward person, and he expects others to be straightforward with him. So he's at a loss to explain why JJ keeps trying to pick a fight, and why Yuri is so angry about it. To be honest, he's a bit disappointed; he'd hoped Yuri would be more focused on him...





	

**Author's Note:**

> I got this idea from the way JJ was clearly psyched out by Otabek at the GPF, even though I'm pretty sure Otabek didn't even notice.

 

This wasn't going to be like the other competitions.

To those who paid attention to the skating media it had probably been obvious for weeks, but it only really sank in for Otabek when he saw the mass of people waiting outside the Helsinki Hilton. They were visible from a block away, some of them waving signs, and he knew a fair few would be wearing cat ears.

“Do you want to go around the side?” their taxi driver asked and Otabek shook his head at his coach's questioning look.

“They're not here for me.”

And honestly, it didn't bother him at all. He didn't skate to be famous, and he knew he wasn't the sort of large personality that attracted a lot of fans anyway. He had fans, of course, and at most events he met a few, signed things, but he was glad he wasn't mobbed the way Yuri was.

He didn't approve of the way Yuri's Angels acted a lot of the time, but he couldn't blame them for existing. He was Yuri's fan too, after all. Had been for longer than anyone out there too, although he wasn't going to brag about it.

The crowd surged towards their taxi as it drew up outside the hotel, and then fell back again with a smattering of camera clicks when they saw who was inside. Or rather who wasn't.

The World Championships were the first time the so-called First Couple of Skating were competing against each other, and even the combined star power of Yuri and JJ, who were also attending, weren't enough to draw attention away from them.

Otabek didn't care about any of that. He didn't see the point in dramatic narratives that the media liked to weave around sporting competitions. What mattered was what happened on the ice, and the other competitors' personal lives weren't any of his business.

He nodded to some people calling his name as he went into the hotel, but he wasn't about to stop, even though he wanted to pause and taste the air of this new place. He'd never been to Finland before, and from what he'd seen out the window of the taxi, Helsinki looked like a lovely city.

Maybe he'd have a few days to explore after the competition. Maybe hire a bike. Maybe invite a friend.

“I'll check in,” his coach said as their luggage was conveyed into the hotel. Otabek nodded.

He had a reputation for being calm, and truthfully Otabek didn't suffer from nerves before a competition the way some other skaters did. Perhaps he'd perform with more emotion if he did, but that was just the way he was.

But he was nervous now. Nothing crippling, nothing even his coach would notice, just a fluttery, uneasy feeling in his stomach, not entirely unpleasant either.

It didn't have much to do with the competition.

He'd managed to catch Yuri long enough to have a brief, slightly stilted conversation at the banquet after the GPF in Barcelona and they hadn't seen each other face to face since, instead relying on social media and skype to grow their new friendship.

He was looking forward to seeing his friend again. He was still sort of stunned they were friends in the first place. Barcelona felt like a dream; he had to remind himself that it actually happened, that he'd swooped in to help and the famously-prickly Yuri Plisetsky had let him.

They should do it again, just ride off somewhere and talk, and he'd try not to get lost in those brilliant eyes. Yuri seemed oblivious to the way he'd been staring, thankfully, instead smiling and chatting like he'd never had a friend before in his life.

Occupied with thoughts like these, Otabek hadn't really registered the fact that JJ was holding court with some of his fans in the hotel lobby until the Canadian called his name.

“We meet again.” JJ was beaming at him, in a vaguely aggressive way. Otabek didn't think he was a bad person, but he was just a bit too much most of the time. JJ walked up to him and extended his hand, and Otabek shook it, since it was impolite not to, but he was rather bemused by the whole thing.

“Now the battle is joined!” JJ declared. “May the best skater win.” He looked Otabek in the eye, still bright and friendly, but hard too. “You're not going to beat me this time, Atlin,” he added in a lower tone, as if Otabek had a clue what he was going on about. The last time they'd competed Otabek had come fourth, and JJ himself had come third.

Otabek had increased the technical difficulty of his routines since, but he didn't think that was what JJ was referring to. He had no doubt JJ would be equally as ambitious, after all.

Otabek was about to politely disentangle himself when a chorus of screaming drew his attention to the latest skater to arrive at the hotel, and his heart leaped to see Yuri in the flesh, scowl and sunglasses in place as he stomped irritably in, his coaches in his wake.

It was hard to believe how sweet his real smile was when he looked like that most of the time.

“What's going on?” Yuri took off his sunglasses as he approached the pair of them. Otabek removed his hand from JJ's grasp.

“I have no idea,” Otabek said, but JJ didn't seem to hear him.

“I am once again facing my greatest rival. And I'm going to win,” a dramatic pause. “JJ Style!” He did the pose and several fans clapped and took photos.

Otabek sighed. Maybe this excruciating conversation was finally coming to an end.

“What!?” Yuri bristled like a cat that had just had its tail trodden on. “Otabek is your greatest rival?”

“Good luck, tomorrow, Yuri,” JJ said with a smile, which seemed to incense him further.

“Just hang on a minute-”

“Yuri,” Otabek interrupted him, as his coach handed him his key. “I'm going up.”

“Oh, right. Yeah.” He didn't offer to come with him, still focused on JJ, and Otabek was turning to go when a roar from outside drew everyone's attention.

“Aah! Victor and the Katsudon caught up!” Yuri grabbed Otabek's arm and dragged him towards the lifts. “Let's just go.”

Otabek didn't object, and they escaped in the confusion.

“Do you even have your room yet?” Otabek asked as he examined his key and punched the number for his floor.

“No. Yakov will handle that,” Yuri said, still frowning. “I'll hang out with you until then.”

Otabek wished he was a little more enthusiastic about it. This wasn't how he'd hoped their reunion would go.

What had he hoped for? Maybe their easy camaraderie in Barcelona had been a fluke.

“Unbelievable,” Yuri muttered. “Beating him in Barcelona was completely unsatisfying but _I'm_ the one he has to beat  now.” He bunched his fists. “That guy pisses me off so much!” He looked up at Otabek from under his hair. “Don't pay any attention to him.”

“That would be my preference,” Otabek said, but if he thought that would lead to a change of subject he was wrong. Yuri was in an utterly foul mood and he kept grumbling about JJ until the doors opened on Otabek's floor.

They stepped out of the lift and Otabek unlocked his door and let them in. It was a lovely room, and he crossed the floor to the window to gaze out at the water. He'd seen the islands scattered around the peninsula when they'd flown in, and he was quite charmed, and eager to get a closer look.

Yuri flopped down on the bed, his booted feet hanging off the end and he stared at the ceiling.

Otabek took off his coat and hung it in the closet and stared at Yuri, worried.

Yuri caught him staring. “What?” he snapped, his pale skin flushing, although it was hard to tell if it was from anger or not.

“What's wrong?” Otabek asked.

Yuri heaved a sigh and sat up, tucking his hair behind his ear. He'd mentioned wanting to cut it but hadn't decided how yet. Otabek had suggested he buzz it all off and Yuri had laughed at what he'd imagined the response from his fans would be. Otabek was glad he hadn't taken his suggestion seriously; short or long, Yuri's hair was beautiful.

Yuri didn't look like he was going to laugh again any time soon, and Otabek always felt it was sheer luck whenever he managed to make him smile anyway.

“Heaps of stuff,” he mumbled. His phone chimed and he looked at it. “Yakov has my room key. I need to go and get it before he yells at me for running off.” He stood up, not quite looking Otabek in the eye. “I shouldn't even be letting myself think about stupid shit before a competition. I can't afford to get distracted. Thanks for letting me hang out.” He spoke quickly, and was gone equally fast.

“Right,” Otabek said as the door closed. He looked around his room. “I missed you.”

~~

Even the practice sessions had sold out, but Otabek focused his attention on the ice, on his own breathing. This was how he'd decided to live, and everything else was irrelevant.

JJ kept trying to talk to him, whip up a spirit of friendly competition, an endeavour that the press was all to happy to assist him with. Otabek was unfailingly polite to reporters, but he didn't know what to say most of the time. Of course he intends to win, of course he's happy when he does, of course he's happy for whoever beats him, what else do they want him to say?

While Otabek's coach always had to nudge him to say more, Yuri's coaches were clearly trying to hold him back as he declared his determination to win, his eyes fixed on JJ.

The day before the short skate Otabek messaged Yuri, inviting him out to explore and hopefully escape from the increasingly stifling atmosphere. Yuri didn't respond, not for hours, and by that time his 'sorry can't make it' was far too late.

Otabek went for a walk by himself instead, and told himself he was having a nice time.

The short skate was a mess.

There were so many potential favourites on the field, but both Russians did badly, and Otabek watched Yuri skate with a faint frown. He's holding back so much, he thought, and wondered why.

Thus he found himself a handful of points behind JJ in second place, and Yuuri in third.  JJ was delighted, and practically dragged him into a shared  rinkside  interview. Otabek didn't get angry easily, especially when there was nothing malicious involved, but he was starting to see Yuri's perspective on the Canadian.

Mostly, he was worried about Yuri. Victor had only been in training for a handful of weeks; to see him struggle wasn't actually a surprise, although clearly he was throwing his  fiancé  off his game as well. That was for them to worry about.

He shouldn't be worrying about anyone but himself, he knew that, but nevertheless he got away as soon as he could and went in search of Yuri.

He wasn't in his room. Nor in the hotel pool. After his texts went ignored again, Otabek just called him.

Yuri picked up.

“Where are you?” Otabek asked.

“Around the back.”

“The back of what?”

“The hotel.”

“Are you hiding from fans? Should I bring a bike?”

He heard Yuri chuckle at least,  and then the ambient noise swelled and he heard the click of the camera phone.

“Check your messages,” Yuri said. Otabek tabbed out of the call and smiled to see the photo of the orange cat rubbing against Yuri's hand.

“I see. Do you want some human company?” Otabek asked, trying not to care too much about the answer.

“Yeah,” Yuri said softly. “That'd be good.”

The cat had gone by the time Otabek arrived, but Yuri was still there, squatting with his back to the wall of the hotel, gazing at the evening sky.

“You have some affinity for alleyways,” Otabek said. “Like a stray cat yourself.”

“No bike?” Yuri asked, looking a bit disappointed.

“I haven't had a chance to hire one yet,” Otabek said.

“Mm.”

Yuri straightened up and stretched, wincing slightly. He eyed Otabek up and down for a moment.

“Hold still, would you?” he asked, and walked right up to him.

Otabek's heart thumped a bit harder as Yuri stepped into his personal space, his hair practically brushing Otabek's nose.

“Um.” What do I do? What does he want? Yuri wasn't looking at him; he was glaring at a point somewhere on Otabek's neck.

Yuri put a hand on his own head and then moved it forward until he touched Otabek's nose. Then he looked up and frowned. “I guess it doesn't make a lot of difference.”

Otabek stared at him, wondering if Yuri could feel the heat of his body. He felt a bit too warm, despite the chill of the evening at this high latitude. It wouldn't take much to lift his arms, to touch him. Hell, all he'd have to do was take a deep breath. Yuri had rubbed off most of the make-up from his performance earlier, but Otabek could see stray pieces of glitter on his cheek, and faint streaks of colour in the folds of his eyelids.

His lips-

Yuri's eyes widened and he suddenly stepped away. “Sorry, that was weird of me.”

“It's fine.” Don't go.

“I've grown like, I dunno, half a centimetre since the GPF,” Yuri said. “It was always gonna happen, I mean, I've heard nothing else for years but 'don't rely on how your body is now' and 'you might not be able to compete at the same level in the future' and I _know_ all that. One gold. What if that's all I have in me?”

Otabek drew breath to argue when Yuri turned on him. “And it's not like I want to stay like this forever either! I want.” He shrugged awkwardly. “I want to hurry up and grow up. I'm tired of everyone seeing me as this child wonder. And.” He was shifting his jaw, “And I'm tired of acting like one too.”

“You might get even stronger,” Otabek said. “I didn't really become competitive until I was seventeen.”

“I might,” Yuri said. “And I might not. There's nothing I can do but keep training. It's just that I don't _know_ what's going to happen and it's killing me. It's like, I know my scores will get worse for a while, but I don't know if they'll get better again  on the other side.”

“We're all one bad fall away from unexpected retirement,” Otabek pointed out.

“Yeah. I know. Anyway, it's weird having Victor back, and Katsudon around. They're not bad it's just hard to focus.”

“I can imagine that.”

“And they're not even doing well! Although I guess I've got no room to talk. I haven't congratulated you yet, have I?” He smiled, a bit tensely. “Congratulations.”

“It's not that surprising. This is only the first time they're competing together since Victor became Yuuri's, uh, coach.”

“You can say it you know,” Yuri said. “Loverrrrr,” he stretched the word out like rubber, pulling a face. “They're so gross,” he said, although his expression had softened.

“I think it's kind of sweet,” Otabek confessed. “Although I don't have to put up with them all the time.”

“You would,” Yuri said, his smile a bit fonder. He seemed to have calmed down. The Yuri Otabek remembered from Barcelona seemed to be coming back. Yuri stretched again, going up on his toes for a moment. “Anyway, I have to do better in the Free Skate. And so do you!”

“Huh?”

“You let JJ beat you! How could you?”

“I wasn't really focused on him,” Otabek said truthfully. “Why do you care so much?”

“Because he's a dick,” Yuri said. Paused. “And he keeps monopolizing you,” he admitted. “I dunno. He wasn't much of a challenger last time, so I guess I was kind of looking forward to the rematch, but mostly it's like, you don't even _do_ rivalries and shit. And he's there trying to force you into it and it pisses me off!  I bet it pisses you off but you're too polite to say so.”

“ _That's_ your problem?”

“Yeah. What you do works for you, you know? And he's trying to mess that up.”

“I don't think he's trying to mess me up deliberately. But I really don't understand it.” Otabek shivered slightly. It was spring here, but the sun had set and the temperature was dropping. They couldn't stay out for long. “You know, I can't keep him off the podium by myself,” Otabek said.

“You just need to beat him-”

“I'm not really interested in him.” Otabek stepped forward. “Frankly, I'm sick of him. But you're wrong. I've always had a rival. I've been chasing his shadow a long time. When I first met him, I knew he was so far ahead of me I might not ever catch up. I wonder if it's possible for me to beat him now.” Otabek tilted his head thoughtfully.

“No,” Yuri said sharply. Paused. “Well, I don't know. I think I'd be happy if you beat me though, which is so weird,” he was speaking softly, his arms wrapped around himself to ward off the chill. “Still, all those old guys will retire eventually.” He smiled, that real, happy smile that Otabek prized so much. “We should beat them before they do.”

“Alright.”

“Let's go in. It's too cold for cats now.”

~~

“Davai!” Otabek shouted, and Yuri acknowledged him with a nod and a faint smile, before going on to a performance that shot him right into contention for gold again, and Otabek found himself biting his lip to stop an uncharacteristic grin from taking over his face. Not now, he thought, not when there are so many cameras.

Otabek tried not to take anything onto the ice with him, to leave it behind, but this time he couldn't, Yuri's performance like an after-image hanging in the air over the ice. Otabek skated into his spaces, couldn't overwrite it but answered it instead. Maybe someday he'd stop chasing Yuri's example, but it was not to be today, and it brought out the best in him, as it always had.

Otabek was still in his shadow, in the end. Yuri's performance in the free skate earned him silver, although Otabek's combined scores were enough that he edged him out for gold. JJ had been watching both their performances, first Yuri's and then Otabek's, and was oddly subdued, although he smiled brightly enough for the cameras with his bronze.

It felt good to stand beside Yuri on the podium, and felt even better to see him smile.

“You have to make the GPF,” Yuri said, quietly, as they held their medals up. “Once Victor and Yuuri sort themselves out, we'll have to do better than this.”

“Mm. Aren't you and Victor supposed to be on the same team?”

Yuri glanced at him as they skated out of the spotlights and towards the waiting reporters. “You're my team,” he said quickly, and glided off without a backwards glance.

Otabek spent the next few hours on the phone, as all his relatives insisted on congratulating him personally. They did this every time, and he went back to his room and got dressed for the banquet with his phone against his ear with ease borne of practice. It was only when it was actually starting that he insisted on turning his phone off because he didn't want to be rude.

Otabek methodically went through the motions of talking to everyone he was obliged to talk to, but he kept an eye out for Yuri. When he finally spotted him, he didn't look happy, or even angry, he just seemed sad.

Hell with that.

Otabek abandoned his current conversation and made his way fairly forcefully through the crowd to Yuri's side.

“Yuri-”

“Come with me,” Yuri said, his jaw set.

Otabek's natural inclination was to stay and do his duty like he always did, but he found himself depositing his champagne flute on the nearest flat surface and following Yuri out.

Yuri told him to wait a moment and when he came back from his room he had a bag with him, and they ducked out into the cold night air.

“I'm doing this,” Yuri said, looking determined.

“You're not running away, are you?” he asked, slightly alarmed.

“What? No. Nothing like that. There's a taxi, come on.”

They went back at the rink. The security staff were slightly reluctant to let them in, but Yuri reminded them who he was, and who Otabek was, and they made it through after signing a couple of autographs.

“This is probably going to be put up online somewhere you realise,” Otabek said.

“Yeah.” Yuri smiled a bit sadly at him. “Sorry about that. I guess I'm kind of used to it.”

“Doesn't matter. We're here now.”

Most of the lights were off, just dull security lighting far above them, the stands empty and quiet. Otabek waited while Yuri took off his dress shoes and suit jacket and tie, and put on the skates he'd brought in his bag. After a moment's hesitation he untied his hair too, letting it fall over his shoulders.

“I don't have any music,” he said. Took a breath. “Maybe it's for the best. Watch me.”

He did a quick warm up, and skated out onto the ice. Otabek rested his elbows on the barrier, and watched.

The routine Yuri skated wasn't that difficult, and it seemed vaguely familiar, although without the music Otabek couldn't place it. It definitely wasn't one of his own, which had crossed his mind as what Yuri might want to show him. It didn't look all that polished either, which made sense; he had to have been practising this alongside his official routines.

Yuri skated to a halt, arm outstretched towards him, and Otabek clapped politely. Yuri skated over, face flushed and eyes shining.

“Um...”

“It was nice,” Otabek said, and was instantly aware it wasn't what Yuri wanted to hear.

“Oh.”

“What was it?”

“What was it? You didn't recognise it?” Yuri glared at him. “How could you not recognise it?” He closed the gap and grabbed Otabek's jacket by the collar. “It's eros, you moron! Eros!”

“Katsuki's routine?” Now he thought about it, he did recognise it.

“Yeah.” Yuri loosened his grip a little. “It worked for Yuuri.”

Oh.

_Oh._

Ohhhh shit. Yuri's head was down, his hair hanging in front of his face. He snapped his head up when Otabek lifted his hand to brush it aside.

“Hey, Yuri. Thank you. You didn't have to, but it does make this easier.”

“Make what easier?” Yuri asked suspiciously.

“Asking you to date me.” Otabek said. “I mean, in the twice a year we see each other.”

Yuri reeled himself in, still grabbing Otabek's collar. With skates on he was almost exactly the same height. Otabek found himself mesmerised as Yuri smiled at him, devious rather than sweet, but he was still flushed.

“I should make you wait for an answer, because you didn't appreciate my skate,” he said.

“I'm very simple. You have to be straightforward with me, I'm afraid.” He could feel Yuri's breath on his face, warm. He himself felt like he'd forgotten what breathing was like.

“I know. It's why I like you. One of the reasons.” Yuri's smile faded and he very seriously, very gently, kissed him, his lips soft, his hair brushing Otabek's cheek. “Straightforward enough?”

Otabek swallowed and nodded. “Mm. You might need to make it clearer.” He leaned over the barrier and returned the favour, combing his fingers through Yuri's hair and wrapping his other arm around him. Yuri opened his mouth to him, pressed up against him as close as he could.

Otabek couldn't keep the smile off his face. “Tomorrow-”

“We can't,” Yuri said, the corners of his mouth turned down. “I wasn't planning to steal you from the banquet, but we're leaving tomorrow and it's not fair.” He fiddled with the buttons on Otabek's jacket. “It might be months 'til I get to see you again.” He looked up, determined. “I want to stay with you tonight.”

“Um, well, that's a bit fast-” Oh God.

“I don't care where we go. I want to just, you know, stay with you.”

“Oh. I see. Stay out somewhere.” Otabek had to admit he was a bit relieved. “Yeah. We can do that.”

Yuri smiled at him slyly, “Why, what were you thinking?”

“Nothing.”

Yuri didn't argue but he did look kind of smug. “Let me get these skates off and we can go exploring.”

Many hours later, Yuri nudged him. “Stop staring at me. You're gonna miss the sunrise.”

“There's a sunrise every day, but only one of you,” Otabek said, and smiled to himself as Yuri's cheeks flamed again.

“Fuck you, arsehole,” he said, giving him another nudge that was more like a shove, before burying his face in his hands. “Who says shit like that?”

“Should I stop?” Otabek asked.

Yuri pouted and then slumped against his side. Otabek put an arm around him, because he was allowed to, although he still felt like it might all be a dream. “You better not,” Yuri mumbled, as the new day's light glittered off the sea.

 


End file.
